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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26802778">Broken Hearts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAT_BAT/pseuds/RAT_BAT'>RAT_BAT</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marble Hornets</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bluejay - Freeform, Death, Grieving, Post entry 87, Sunsets, Tim is Not Having A Good Time</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:55:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>531</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26802778</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAT_BAT/pseuds/RAT_BAT</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim grieves.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948756</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Broken Hearts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He was the only one left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He, the mentally ill, epileptic, socially withdrawn asshole was the only one left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had moved, not long after. Moved away from the state with Jessica not far behind him, settled down in upstate Georgia on a small farm house, far away from people. He didn’t want to hurt anyone else, not like he did with -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A take from his cigarette. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tim had called the hospital Brian worked at after he died. Told them that he had a nasty fall and wasn’t coming back to work. When they had asked why, he didn’t have the heart to tell them that he had died, and that it was his fault. He simply told them that he had moved unexpectedly without telling him, either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jay’s mom had called not long after. He must’ve given her Tim’s number. She asked if Jay was alright - I haven’t heard from him in a while. He said he was with you. Is he still there?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He simply hung up and blocked her number. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared at the makeshift graves in his backyard. One for each of them. He had used a stone for everyone except Alex, who got a brick. Because it made him laugh when he thought about Alex having a brick for a headstone. Grief made people do weird things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes his therapist called. Before he moved out of state for the first time, she had told him she was open to talk; and he had spilled everything. About how he was a horrible friend that got his friends killed, and how the Operator wasn’t just a hallucination, it was an entity - then ran out when it showed up behind her, reaching for him. </span>
  <span>The sun was going down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian always liked sunsets. It told the end of the day, when everyone would start relaxing and going to bed, taking showers or eating dinner. He liked to talk about all of the pretty colors, the blues, the oranges, the purples and pinks. He’d never get to see those again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jay liked to talk about insects. It was one of his special interests, he could go on and on about bugs and how cool their legs were and how their organs worked and every single little detail he could cram into that head of his, did you know that caterpillars have twelve eyes, Tim? Or that the assassin bug piles up it’s victims on it’s back to scare away predators? I don’t know, I just think they’re neat! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He missed Alex too, funnily enough. He missed just how creative Alex was, how he could think of something and spin it into a story. He wasn’t just a shitty script-writer, he was an artist, who was the best of his kind and Tim would be damned if anyone ever talked shit about his writing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mask was still in his closet, both of them. He had stolen Brian’s off his face right before running off, stuffing it into his duffle bag and wishing that Brian would live. Bad things happen to good people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was tired. </span>
  <span></span><br/>

  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He wished to sleep forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A blue-jay landed on Jay’s grave, singing a sad song. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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